No Longer Nessie
by Igneous Pride
Summary: On a dark, snowy Christmas eve in the not too distant future, the Doctor happens upon a peculiar young woman, sitting all alone, drowning her sorrows. A damsel in distress maybe? Or a woman scorned seeking revenge on the creatures that took everything from her? One thing is for certain, life is about to get very interesting for the both of them.
1. She's not Nessie anymore

Striding confidently through the double doors of the crowded pub, and making her way to an empty stool by the bar, Renesmee Cullen sat down and ordered a drink in a clear melodic voice, ignoring the barman's stunned look as he walked away dazedly to fill her order. It was a reaction she was expecting and accustomed to.

It was Christmas Eve, and the place was packed. There was a lot of good natured moaning about the weather. It had been snowing non stop for the last month, making life for the locals difficult, as the city was inexperienced at dealing with such Arctic conditions. Nevertheless a white Christmas had a certain appeal to it, as it generally didn't snow till mid February at the earliest. It was making Renesmee nostalgic. The wintry air and cold conditions reminded her of her birthplace of Forks. She knew she'd never forget the place, despite not having been back there for nearly ten years. No matter how much she wished she could erase from her mind completely.

Despite her loss of affection for her home town, and that Christmas generally made her even more bitter and unsociable than usual, her joy at the sight of snow could not be repressed. In that first moment of seeing the early flakes drifting to the ground, well, she almost felt like a child again, as opposed to the thirty five year old woman she was (even though she looked no more than nineteen)

Swirling her drink in one hand, a rather delicious vodka and blackcurrant (it looked vaguely like blood), while watching the humans walk by her, Renesmees thoughts drifted to her family, knowing she should probably call her mother before she got too inebriated to speak (after a lot of experimentation, she discovered that alcohol could affect half vampires if consumed in large enough quantities. They just had really strong stomachs) No way did she want to be sober and alone tonight. It was bad enough she was sober and alone most days.

Reluctantly she pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialled the Cullen's home number.

Her aunt picked up on the first ring

"Hey Nessie" Alice chirped. Renesmee winced. She hated that name now. And Alice knew that.

"Hi Alice. Is mom around?" she inquired politely. Renesmee loathed small talk.

Alice got the message.

"No, she and Edward went to Charlie's." Alice supplied. That surprised Renesmee. She would have thought Alice would have told them when she was going to call.

"Oh, well can you tell them I called?" she asked.

"Sure Ness." She knew there was no point in getting her to call back. She would be too thoroughly hammered for any coherent conversation, and it would only make her mom upset and dad angry.

There was an awkward silence.

"Happy Christmas" Alice said, a trace of sadness lacing her soprano voice.

"Yeah, you too. Bye Alice"

"Goodbye Renesmee" she said hanging up.

After letting out a long sigh, Renesmee went back to people watching. Or rather watching people watch her. It wasn't anything new to her, her heritage made her almost supernaturally lovely, as well as both her aunts rubbing off on her. Rosalie's vanity and Alice's exquisite fashion sense had been instilled in her from a young age, thanks to all the mock fashion shows. Renesmee was not as bad as Rose, but she certainly dressed to impress. A Gothic, navy dress fell to her thighs, delicate lace on the low cut top, with sparkling tights and suede black boots, as well as her customary leather jacket and gratuitous amount of jewellery. Her almost waist-length bronze hair was twisted into two plaits on either side of her face. She was quite a vision, hence the many flattering though annoying looks.

One face in particular stood out. He was gazing at her, as many others were, but not in a 'she's-really fit-I-want-to-do-her' way. No, he looked puzzled. It might have unnerved someone else, but not her. Finishing her drink and ordering her second. Renesmee examined the man out of the corner of her eye.

Quite tall and thin wearing a dark blue pinstriped suit and a long dark brown overcoat. He looked to be in his mid thirties (which made Renesmee snort as she realised she was probably older than him) His dark hair reached rather impressive heights. He was quite attractive, for a human. A boyish face with huge, dark, expressive eyes. She could not get his scent, as he was sitting all the way at the other side of the room and there were about twenty between them. Still the strangest thing was that he had not stopped staring at her.

Moving on to her third drink in the last half hour, as well as growing weary of the strangers stare, she turned to meet his gaze, knowing full well he'd shift it rather than be caught ogling a girl ten years his junior (she almost smiled at that), only to find he'd gone.

Ordering her fourth, and starting to feel it now, the delicious dizziness that made her bad mood go bye bye temporarily, she scowled as her phone rang. Fumbling for it in her bag, she checked the caller id and was tempted to just let it ring, but knowing they'd know she was ignoring them.

She reluctantly pressed the green button.

"Hello" God she could hear the slur in her voice. Eyes were being rolled and mouths were turning into frowns, she could feel it.

"Hello Renesmee, honey. How are you?" Bella Cullen asked.

"Fine mom. What about you guys?" she asked. Wow that was good shit they were putting in her drink. She was halfway to tipsy after only three.

"We miss you, Renesmee" she said sadly. At least there was one good thing about Bella, she didn't use that sickening nickname on her. "We all really wish you would come home for Christmas"

"Yeah well the flights are grounded. Blame the weather" The noise level in the pub was rising, no ordinary human should have been able to hear a phone over the cacophony of voices and laughter, so Renesmee picked up her bag and drink and headed outside. Renesmee was extremely cautious of blending in, and she also didn't want her mother to pick up on all the accents and know where she was.

"I'm sorry for wanting to see my _only _daughter more than _once_ a year. For Gods sake Renesmee its _Christmas_" Bella pleaded

"You know I cant go back there" Renesmee all but snarled at her.

Her mother was silent for a moment.

"Baby, he wouldn't want you to run away like this" she said softly.

Renesmee did not reply. Sensing her daughters unwillingness, she continued

"Look I'm sorry. I miss you. We all miss you. Especially Rose."

Renesmee rolled her eyes. Yes to Aunty Rose, she had been a miracle, the child she never had but always craved. But then she had grown up at an accelerated rate, ending the fantasy. But even then, they had remained close, practically sisters themselves. Not anymore. Not since...

"Yeah sure sure, I'm unforgettable. Look I have to go" Drink five was waiting. "Ill call you again soon"

"Renesmee Cullen" her mother said warningly.

"Bye mom." she said hanging up. The phone rang again, but she switched it off, and headed back inside, reclaiming her stool by the bar.

She sat for another hour, alone. Her relationship with her family was strained to say the least, their conversation difficult and visits left her downright unpleasant to be around.

I_t didn't used to be like this _she thought nostalgically, longing for the good times.

However reminiscing about times long gone was doing her no favours. Considering going back to the hotel room she'd been calling home for the last three weeks and lying on the bed, wallowing in self pity all the while slipping slowly into madness, or to stay here and continue getting shit faced. Both had a certain appeal.

She looked at the clock. It was nearly midnight. Deciding to have one more drink, then leave, she heard someone pulling up a stool beside her. She glanced up to see the man from earlier. She nodded, then went back to...nothing in particular.

"Hallo" he said, smiling brightly

**Hello all. Thanks for reading. Hope you like. Review etc.**

**Love and affection.**

**Igneous Pride**

**Disclaimer: I do not own either of these. If I did Id be too busy making out with David Tennant to write crappy fanfiction. Phwoar.**

He had a nice smile, she gave him that. Enticing. Welcoming. Almost without her permission, she felt the corners of her mouth pull up in reply, to form a , half small in response to his almost manic grin.

"Hi" Renesmee replied, somewhat uncertainly, her usual calm confidence disrupted ever so slightly by the not insubstantial amounts of vodka she had consumed in the last hour and a half.

"Merry Christmas" the man said jovially, his eyes scanning her face for...something.

"Mmhmm" Renesmee replied, making a conscious effort to clear her muddled thoughts. There was something off about the man beside her, something she was currently too intoxicated to decipher.

"Blimey, not the most festive, are we?" he said, eyebrows raised.

"Nope" she replied, her lips popping on the p. "I suppose I can take your accent as a sign youre not from these parts?" she enquired, trying to appear interested and sober, probably failing the latter.

"You can talk" he said, grinning.

"Touche


	2. Strangest hangover ever

Flashes flashed. Images in her head. Which hurt. God her head hurt.

There had been a bang, a loud bang, followed by a thud. Before that though, she had been laughing. Quite a bit. And the whooshing of air. Which meant she'd been running. And her head hurt.

Opening her eyes, and it was like looking at the sun. In June. In Spain. Hungover.

Renesmee wasn't entirely sure of how she had gotten here.

Unfortunately that wasn't an unfamiliar feeling.

There had been vodka, she was sure of that, and from the familiar pounding of her head, lots of it. There seemed to be an extra kick to it this time. What had she been drinking?

There had been running too, though how much on her part was unsure. Looking down at her feet, she saw that they were bare, and her jacket was draped around her. Someone had been conscientious enough to do that for her but who...?

There had been a man. The tall skinny man from the pub, with the hair and the eyes... she shook her head, trying to clear her head. It didn't help. Something to do with him. Something important.

She achieved a vertical position, sitting up and examining her surroundings, her eyes half closed. Honest to God, this was the mother, father and great aunt of all hangovers... No, she'd been hit on the head. By someone with enthusiasm. And malicious intent towards her.

Like that narrowed it down.

She felt around for her handbag, finding it beneath the chair she'd been unconscious in. Taking out a small mirror, she groaned when she saw her reflection. Her hair and make up was a mess. If she wasn't supernaturally good looking she'd look like a swamp monster. Or something. Brain definitely wasn't functioning properly yet.

She took a hairband out of her bag to tie her long bronze (coughgingercough) locks her face, and attempted to stand.

And failed.

Details began to come back to her. The man, in the pub, he'd come to talk to her. With an accent. He was better looking up close, she recalled. Very pretty eyes.

But there was something wrong about him, she'd sensed it right off. He was... something else.

More alcohol had been consumed, and it didn't seem to affect him.

Then she'd... no they'd both left, at the same time and... oh God no they didn't, did they? Fuck. It wouldn't have been the first time something like that had happened to her, but still...

But then why had she been unconscious and fully clothed in a chair? So yeah, no, not _that._

No, she'd been walking alone, having left the strange man a few moments before. And then someone had tried to jump her. Someone not human. She'd cried out, knowing they wouldn't dare try anything with an audience. And then one of them had hacked her over the head and she'd crumpled to the ground.

And woken up here.

Renesmee frowned. Now was the time to start panicking, she supposed. Except she wasn't.

Clarity almost completely restored, thanks again to her half and half genetics, she succeeded in making it to the door.

And walked in to the man from the bar.

He put his hands out to steady her, but she quickly blocked them, nostrils flaring.

"Where am I?" she demanded

"Oh, and good morning to you too, thank you so much for rescuing me and then dragging my ungrateful form back to your ship, where I then proceeded to sleep for seven hours. Kids today." he said, sighing.

"I'm not a kid." she said still glaring.

"Of course not", he replied, mock solemnly.

Renesmee softened slightly. "Right. Sorry" There was an awkward pause. "I'm Renesmee"

"I know. You told me eight hours ago. I made fun of it." he replied, grinning.

"Did I? Oh, em, I'm afraid I can't quite remember..." she trailed off.

"The Doctor. And we already did the whole 'but that's not a name routine' earlier." the self proclaimed Doctor said.

"Ooookay. My grandfather's a doctor too." she said, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"Yeah, you said. Slurred a bit", he told her frowning. Probably thought she had concussion or the likes.

"Did I? I did. Okay, I suppose I'd better get out of your hair 'Doctor'. So if you could point me in the direction of my shoes and the exit, that'd be awesome"

"I don't think that would be the best idea right now." he crossed his arms, blocking the doorway. Like that could stop her.

"Look, Doctor, I feel fine, really" she said, attempting to go around him.

"I'm sure you do, Renesmee, but whatever attacked you last night might still be out there." he said, frowning down at her. She hated that she'd gotten her height from her mother. _Everyone_ was taller than her. Except maybe Alice. And children.

"I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I can take care of myself." she said placing her hand on his wrist.

"Interesting" he said, looking at her with fascination. And still not the appreciative kind she was used to. She was about to ask 'What's interesting?' and did indeed get as far as the "Wha-" before she cut off, and realised what was so wrong about him.

His heartbeat was going insane under her palm, like he was about to have a heart attack at any second. And yet he looked completely fine. A lot better than she looked right now. But this... he wasn't like her, as far as she could tell

"You're not human" she breathed, staring him dead in the eye. He met her gaze unblinkingly, not even the slightest trace of doubt as he replied

"Neither are you"

Renesmee thought she could really _really _use a drink.

**So yeah, that's chapter 2. Thanks for the reviews and subscriptions, please keep them coming.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own either stories, please note my lack of riches or being Steven Moffett. It's a hard life.**


	3. Curiouser and curiouser

_You're not human_

_Neither are you..._

Well, this, she thought numbly, was quite a turn of events. A definite plot twist in the chronicles of her life. Renesmee wondered what the best reaction would be to this man's (if he was even that) words. Feeling pretty sure denial wouldn't convince him, and hitting him over the head would be unwise at this point, she took the offensive. Verbal offensive.

Christ, how had she not noticed this earlier. That little niggling feeling (drowned out by a not inconsiderable number of shots) that she had had had all day. His pulse was too fast, almost like-

No, not now.

But there were other things, now she was alert enough to realise. He _smelled_ wrong. Not bad, just different. There was no, well appetising scent that she had long since associated with humans. This man, this creature, whatever was, wasn't food.

And his eyes. Too old, too weary. It was really much more noticeable, the way he was looking at her. Half wary, half amused, with a small smirk, and much too at ease for her liking. She really should have noticed that earlier, she'd grown up with people who were the same. Young faces with ancient expressions. Her uncles and aunts, frozen as teenagers forever, but sometimes, just sometimes, she could see their true age.

Especially lately.

Drawing herself up to her full, if not altogether impressive height, she crossed her arms and glared at this... person in front of her.

"I believe I asked you first," she said, raising a dainty eyebrow. Human or no he didn't seem particularly perturbed by her tone.

"True. I'm... just the Doctor. I travel. A lot." his deflection was painfully transparent, he obviously didn't trust her with the truth. She could understand that at least. These kinds of secrets got you killed. Relaxing her rigid pose a fraction.

"Are you like me?", she asked, suspecting the answer.

"No. Definitely not.", he said shaking his head. He reached into his pinstriped pocket and took out a … device of some kind. If her situation had been any less tense, she might have smirked at it. It was certainly a distinctive shape, and as he pressed the button, it made a, well _vibrating _noise.

Looking at the object dubiously, and then with some alarm as he pointed at her, she quickly moved out of its path. Astonishingly quickly, it took the Doctor a moment before he realised she was behind him, a low warning growl in her throat.

"Well, that's a new one. Brilliant", he grinned now. She found her self detesting the way he was looking at her now, like he was a mad scientist and she his prize experiment.

Speaking of mad scientist, she took the opportunity to take in her surroundings properly. The room was like something out of a sci fi movie. Coral like pillars surrounded a central console, with a ridiculously large number of knobs and levers. A large glass tube was in the centre, where the strange humming seemed to originating.

Weird.

"The hell?", she murmured.

"Yeah, she's something isn't she?", he said, over her shoulder, having taken her distraction to sneak up behind her. She jumped back. The fact he could startle her was unnerving.

"Where am I?", she whispered. "Where have you taken me?"

"Taken? Miss, I carried your unconscious form from the streets, to the safety of my Tardis, where you proceeded to _sleep_ through my gallant rescue. I didn't kidnap you, and I don't mean you any harm, so would you stop looking at me like I'm advancing with a cleaver or the like. Talk about ungrateful. Worst damsel in distress ever, and that, my friend is saying something.". He was pouting by the end of his tirade.

There was a moments silence.

"Are you... sulking?", she asked, utterly nonplussed.

"Yes."

"Okay.", Renesmee was unsure whether to apologise or not. He seemed sincere in not wanting to hurt her, and she was pretty sure most evil kidnappers didn't brood. She was pretty sure she could overpower him physically if she needed to, even if her instincts were screaming loud and clear that that would be A Very Bad Idea. And it wasn't like she had somewhere she needed to be.

Renesmee decided to try for diplomacy.

"Look, why don't we start again?", she asked, catching his eye.

"Well, yes, alright, as long as we don't have to do that ridiculous thing where we say 'Hi, I'm John Smith', or something."

"That sounds fair."

Another awkward moment passed. He sighed and rolled his eyes, holding out his hand.

"Hi I'm the Doctor," he said wearily.

"Hello Doctor, I'm Renesmee."

"Nice to meet you."

"And you".

She snorted.

"Okay, how did you know?"

His brows furrowed in a way she was quickly becoming accustomed.

"Know what?"

"About me."

"What about you?"

"Doctor", she said, her impatience colouring her tone

"Renesmee", he replied, as if confused

She sighed, exasperated.

"How did you know I wasn't human?", she all but yelled at him.

"Oh that. Easy, you're too pretty", he said, looking her right in the eye. It wasn't leering, he wasn't exactly complimenting her, just stating the obvious.

"That's it? That's all you have to go on?", she asked, bewildered.

"Well that and the level of psychic energy you're emitting. Plus no one can drink that much and stay vertical. Better men have tried and failed." A curious note of nostalgia entered his voice.

"Oh". _Psychic energy?_

He seemed to misunderstand her response, because he looked appalled.

"Oh, but definitely the pretty thing, oh yes." Babbling. He was a babbler.

"Er thanks. What do you mean psychic energy?" she asked.

"Oh, well, all living things have some, but you my friend, take the proverbial cake. And possibly the pudding and ice cream as well."

"But I'm not a psychic, I cant see the future or anything like that", she protested.

"But you can do something, correct", he asked, like he already knew the answer.

"Well yeah", she said, and stopped. What the hell was she doing, spilling all her secrets like this? She'd only known this guy for about twelve hours, and here they were gossiping about psychic ability without a bother on her. And she was so careful about this. Renesmee had learned the hard way about her kinds one and only rule.

_Keep the secret_

And along came this Doctor, whoever he was, and it was like he _knew _it all. But if he already knew, there was no harm in talking. It had been so long since Renesmee had actually had a real conversation with someone. She hadn't realised how lonely she'd become.

_Quite pathetic, Nessie_

God she hated that name.

The Doctor seemed to realise her sudden mood swing, he didn't ask her anymore about her supposed psychic powers. Instead he switched to a much more cheerful topic.

"So... who was it that attacked you last night?", he appeared to be trying to be cautious. She almost snorted. From what she'd seen so far of this travelling man, caution was not something that came naturally.

"Oh, that. That's nothing. We had a disagreement a while back."

"Some disagreement. It looked like they were out for blood."

"Oh, of that I've no doubt. It was quite the conflict."

"So it seemed. What's it about, maybe I can help. I'm rather good at that. Helping. You are a damsel, after all.", he grinned sheepishly

"Thanks, but no, I'd rather sort it alone."

"Why?", he asked. Silly man probably thought she couldn't defend herself. Really, they'd gotten lucky last night. She was sappy enough to think they wouldn't attack on Christmas eve. She'd be ready next time. And she wouldn't let them escape again.

"Why? They're the creatures that murdered my husband, Doctor. That's why."

She would destroy them all.

**So yeah, sorry if you were expecting to see Jacob at all. Maybe in a tragic flashback or something. Thanks for all the reading and reviewing etc. **

**Reviews are food. Please feed me.**

**Oh and standard disclaimer, etc, I'm sure we all know the drill by now.**


	4. Crash Bang Wallop

**What's this, I hear your cry? Another chapter? So soon? But surely that's impossible! **

**Yes, my freaky darlings, it is another update, mere days after the last one. My new years resolution is to finish at least one of my fics this year. It will be hard. It will require effort on both sides, mine to write, and you, my darlings, to review to give incentive to keep going. It won't be easy, but if we work together, I know we can do it. I believe in us!**

**So, please review.**

**The usual disclaimer, I am neither the great and powerful Moffat, nor … that other one.**

**Chapter 4.**

The pounding in her head had almost completely abated, all was left was a dull throbbing ache, allowing her to think clearly.

What fun.

It was her mothers fault, really. Hers was quite a lonely childhood. Without any form of companionship from creatures her own age, due to her nature, well, it wasn't what could be called normal. Doting relatives were all very well and good, but on reflection, it was like growing up in a bubble. Isabella Cullen had never been the most practical or even realistic of women, deciding it was better to 'protect' her daughter from the horrors of the world, rather than prepare her to deal with it. Luckily she had not been totally handicapped by her mothers rather poor parenting. From what she knew of her mother, she'd spent her short human span without much in the way of ambition, or even any particular goals. Renesmee had often wondered what would have become of her mother had she not met her father and gone on to live the vampire version of some stepford wife. Though none of her female relations had much interest in what might be loosely termed 'feminism', her aunts and grandmother, frustrating as they were, at least had the excuse of being born into an era when 'Go make me a sandwich', was not offensive and deserving of a well placed kick to a very specific area. Isabella had married young, had a baby, and that was pretty much it.

Even growing up, her families inactivity bothered her. Only her grandfather had an actual career, while the rest were the image of a greedy consumerist lifestyle. Between houses and fast cars and designer clothes, she had quickly grown disdainful. It was one of the only things she'd inherited from her mother, her lack of interest in the material. That and her height. Thanks a bunch, Bella.

So though she may have been vain (a trait she'd no doubt picked up from her aunt Rose), she at least didn't live of the Cullen's vast, seemingly never ending resources, opting to do something unheard of in her family and actually work for a living. She'd tried all manner of odd jobs, from mechanic to waitressing to street performer (she played a mean jazz flute) to bar work. Anything to pass the time and prepare for what was to come.

Because shit was about to go down, there was no doubt about it. She knew well, because she was the cause of it all. Ever since that day in the clearing in Forks.

And her mother, her sinfully stupid mother, had spent her childhood in a simpering daze, too content with her lot, like the fat cat that had gotten the cream. Pretending life was perfect, that there was nothing left to worry about. Like the Volturi and their ilk wouldn't retaliate

And maybe she was being unfair, but honestly, she didn't really care. Her mother was at best a dreamer, at worst a fool who wouldn't know reality if it snuck up and slaughtered her daughters husband.

So now Renesmee was alone now. Too much water under that proverbial bridge. She'd not seen her family in over two years, and only then it was because they had tracked her down when she was living in New York for a while. Most of their kind avoided cities for any length of time, for obvious reasons, hence the appeal. Her parents and aunts had cornered her in a bar one night, expressing the usual concern mixed with a healthy dose of disappointment in her life choices, not to mention disapproval of her 'mission' as she had called it. A few phone calls a month to let them know she was still alive was the extent of their relationship these days.

And they'd tried to give her money. She had not felt guilty about giving them the slip. She'd taken the cheapest flight out of there she could find, and set herself up in Belgium the next day.

It had been the worst hangover ever.

Since then, she'd worked her way through a few cities in Europe, biding her time, making careful observations. Occasionally, she'd let the Volturi know where she was, and they'd send someone. What their eventual goal was, was obvious. But they were waiting for her to move first.

All her life they'd wanted to destroy her. Not because of who she was, but because of _what_ she represented. For beings that had survived through the centuries, they sure were terrified of change. Anything that threatened their authority, they eradicated.

Well, not if she got them first.

So with all the righteous fury she could muster, as well as some unofficial aid from her uncle Jasper, she had begun to plot. Of all of the Cullen's, he alone had taken the Volturi threat seriously after the incident in the clearing. He could guess enough to know that, should conflict arise, she'd be a prime target, so, when she was about three (twelveish), he'd taken her aside and told her in no uncertain terms that she needed to learn to defend herself properly. She was neither as strong, nor as fast as a fully fledged vampire, and sitting back to allow others to protect her didn't sit well with her. So he'd taught her a trick or two, on the sly, which had turned out to be convenient.

She missed him the most.

She had means and motive. All she needed now was opportunity.

Looking at this Doctor in front of her, whoever or whatever he was, she was sure he didn't deserve to be sucked into her battles. Though clearly good in a crisis, he didn't seem the violent type. Renesmee wasn't about to let someone else get killed because of her. Again.

His frown was sympathetic, he had reached out his hand, as if to touch her shoulder in some kind of comforting gesture, but then seemed to think the better of it.

"I'm sorry", he said. And he did, he looked as though it hurt for him too. Strange man.

"Yeah. Me too", she replied, looking away from his eyes. "They lie, you know. Doesn't get easier with time."

"And when was this?", he asked, as if taking notes.

"Eight years ago, last March. It was still snowing." She almost smiled. That one detail had stuck in her memory, for reasons she couldn't quite fathom. Perhaps it was the symbolism, or perhaps it was the image of the starkly contrasting scarlet against the pure white. Probably the latter.

"Eight years ago", he reiterated, making it a question.

"I'm older than I look", she said cryptically. She didn't want to give anything else away.

"How much older?"

"Not as much as you, I reckon." he looked genuinely startled at her deduction. She felt a warm, self satisfied smugness. "You're eyes, Doctor. They're too old"

"Yeah, really have to do something about that. I'll start getting wrinkles."

She snorted at that. "Perish the thought. At least you don't get carded everywhere. It's why I'm in Dublin."

"Funny. How old are you anyway?"

"Cheeky." she pretended to be outraged, then grinned. "I'll be thirty six next August."

"Looking well for it", he said, pursing his lips.

"Yeah, well. Chalk it up to genetics. And moisturiser."

He laughed aloud at this, and at the exact moment, a loud bang echoed throughout the room, jolting them both forward. A second crash, and Renesmee fell to the floor. Gripping a bar near to her, she attempted to rise to her feet.

"What the _hell _was that?" she yelled. Alarms were sounding off all around. The Doctor was rubbing his head, clearly having just landed on it.

"I dunno. Something must have hit the side of the ship."

"Ship? We're on a ship?"

"Must have been a big something too, knock like that. Yes I know", he said addressing the console. After whacking a big yellow button, the alarms ceased. "Much better. Now where were we?"

"My question exactly Doctor. Where are we?" she demanded.

"Right, yeah, we do have seemed to have reached this point."

"Doctor..."

"My ship. That travels in space. And occasionally time. A space ship, if you will. Or time machine. Well both really. My timey wimey spacey wacey ship."

Before she could react, the was another crash. She fell forwards, banging her head, being knocked unconscious for the second time that day.

**Well, yeah. I'm figuring the date to be around 2042ish. It's not really too important, wibbly wobbly etc. It'll jump around a bit. Just in case any of ye were wondering. **

**And I'm Irish, so I'm allowed to make jokes about under-age drinking.**

**I'D LIKE TO SAY A HUGE MASSIVE DISPROPORTIONATE THANK YOU TO THE GORGEOUSLY WONDERFUL THESTRAIGHTLESBIAN FOR BEING AMAZINGLY AWESOME AND FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME. BEZZIES!**

**CAPS LOCK 4EVE 2K11 3 **

**And also to my other reviewers, subscribers, notificators and favouriters. I love you all so much.**

**Please review. (see, a simple request. Not begging or cajoling or threatening or blackmail. No sirree)**


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